


Fragments - Drabble Collection

by ready_to_kick_some_ass



Series: Short Story Collections [3]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Academy Era, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - Guardian Angels, Angels, Angst, Cats, Drabble Collection, F/M, Fluff, Grief/Mourning, Hallucinations, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Season/Series 05 Finale, Pre-Relationship, Self-Harm, Sleeptalking, Wings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-21
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2019-08-27 06:21:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 7,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16697074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ready_to_kick_some_ass/pseuds/ready_to_kick_some_ass
Summary: Collection for the (really) short things.Drabbles up to 1000 words.Latest:Chapter 5: Crazy cat hoarder and allergic-to-cats neighbour (FitzSimmons AU)Chapter 6: When Jemma jumps out of the plane to protect her team from the effects of the virus, someone catches her. Someone with wings. (Fitzsimmons / Guardian Angel AU)Chapter 7: Fitz in a prison cell, trying to find a explanation for the team's disappearance, while he's struggling with the demons in his mind. (Season 5/Rewind)Chapter 8: Fitz notices that Skye has a nightmare. He comforts her and they bond over their experience of being left behind (Fitz & Skye, Early Season One)Chapter 9: In which Jemma saves Fitz from a surprise party. - Written for FitzSimmons Appreciation Week. Day 4 Prompt: Surprise.





	1. “Have you always talked in your sleep?” (Fitzsimmons/Sleeptalking)

Jemma looks at Fitz and asks herself if now is the time to ask. Well, maybe it’s never the time. Maybe it means nothing. After all, it was just sleep talk. And yet …

The words still reverberate in her head. _Simmons. You’re so beautiful._ Uttered in a dreamy, stunned voice. But clear. Oh, so clear. She had been searching around in Fitz’s drawer quietly and carefully, wanted to steal some of his woollen socks because they were so wonderfully warm and hers were not, and right then, those words slipped from his mouth. Unbelievable loud in the silence of night.  

Breathless, she had stared at him, at his peaceful face, his slightly open mouth. It was not the first time she'd heard Fitz talking in his sleep. He does it now and then. Sometimes it’s just incoherent stammering. Or something funny, that makes her smile. But this time it was something else, something that made her stomach flutter in a certain, strange way. She went back to bed, asking herself, what those words meant.

The question is still in her mind, joining her confusing thoughts about Fitz in general.

She needs to know. What are his dreams about?

They are sitting on their couch, watching some Marvel movie. Just an ordinary Saturday evening between roommates. Friends. Ordinary and cozy, and Jemma decides now or never.

“Have you always talked in your sleep?” She asks.

The reaction to her question is immediate.

Fitz flinches and drops the bowl of popcorn in his hands. It lands on the floor, sweet and salty popcorn spreading on the carpet.

Jemma frowns.

Fitz stares at her. The expression in his eyes changes from shock to embarrassment to horror in a heartbeat. His ears turn red. “I … I don’t talk,” he stammers, picking up a popcorn, that fell into his lap.

“Yes, you do,” Jemma says. “And you are loud.”

“Loud,” Fitz repeats tonelessly. The look in his eyes gets empty.

“Yes. Loud enough that I can hear.”

Fitz grabs a pillow and presses it to his chest like a shield. “What do I talk about?” He asks hoarsely.

Jemma tilts her head. “Well. Sometimes it’s just rambling. But sometimes, you’re talking to me. You once said, _Simmons, stop eating my sweets, I need them_.” She hesitates. The words are burning on her lips. She needs to know. “Another time,” she says, her heart beating wildly in her chest. “You said, _Simmons. You’re so beautiful_.”

Fitz freezes. “Oh God,” he whispers. And he hides his face behind the pillow.

Jemma swallows. She nervously bites her lip. “Fitz?”

No answer.

“Do you really think I’m beautiful?”

Fitz’s face appears above the pillow. It’s a deep red, but his eyes are blue like an ocean on a bright sunny day and they are sincere. “Yeah,” he breathes. “I do.”

Jemma inhales sharply.

“Um,” Fitz whispers, “I’m … I mean …”

Whatever he was about to say dies in the void, because Jemma leans forward and kisses him on the mouth.


	2. The only family I've ever had (Philinda, Post s5)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Melinda wakes up from a nightmare. (Philinda, Post s5)

Melinda wakes up abruptly, one hand already under the pillow to reach for her gun – only to discover that it isn’t there. Confused, she blinks into the darkness, her body tense and her breaths shallow. Where …

She doesn’t understand.

Her mind screams danger. Her senses are overwhelmed. A suffocating smell of smoke still in her nose and the ear-piercing sound of screams in her ears. An image in her head, so clear just a heartbeat ago but now fading into vague shadows without contours … A dream, she finally starts to understand. It was just a dream.

She isn’t surprised. She has enough pictures for endless of such dreams. Enough demons to haunt her almost every second night.

Now, that she doesn’t fear an immediate attack anymore, she concentrates on her surroundings. She can hear a faint rushing … the sound of the ocean. Calm and steady. Beside her, a warm body. Phil, a solid presence. She looks at him for a moment. The dim light of the halfmoon falls on his peaceful face, and she feels a sudden but fierce rush of desperate love.

She reaches out a hand, carefully touching his bare arm. Maybe, because some part of her still doesn’t quite believe this is real. When her fingers run over his arm, his warm skin, she exhales shakily. The tension leaves her body completely.

It’s good to be sure.

But still … _This_ isn’t meant to last forever, is it?

Involuntarily, she tightens her grip on Phil’s arm.

He makes a noise in his sleep and shifts on the mattress.

She realizes she's waking him up. But she can’t bring herself to let go. Not now.

She watches as his eyes slip open slowly. He turns his head and blinks at her. “Mel?” His voice sounds drowsy. “Mel, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she whispers, laying her head on his chest. “I was just dreaming … I thought I’m somewhere else.”

He hums. Even half asleep, he knows her. She can see it in his eyes. “You’re here,” he mumbles, reaching for her hand. Melinda intertwines her fingers with his and nods. 

“Yes,” she breathes. “I’m here.”

 _Just where I need to be_ , she thinks.  

Phil squeezes her hand. “I love you,” he murmurs barely audible. Soft and sincere.

 _Then promise me we won’t have to say goodbye_ , she thinks. “I love you too,” she says out loud.

He falls back asleep soon. His breaths slow and even again. Melinda listens to them and the rushing of the ocean outside and feels safe. For the moment.  

 _Maybe that’s enough_ , she thinks. _Maybe._

But a voice in her head says _no_. And she knows deep down that it’s right. She can’t go back. She’s made her decision long ago. Enough pictures.

That’s why she won’t give up.

Eventually Melinda falls back asleep on Phil’s chest. Her last thought is

_I want my family back. It’s the only family I've ever had._


	3. Pictures (Robin & Fitz/Post Season 5)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A moment between Fitz and Robin (Post Season 5)

Robin is drawing. Of course, she is. Fitz hardly remembers a moment when he saw her without her crayons.

He watches her for a while. It's kind of soothing to be sitting next to her at the table. It's quiet and Robin's movements are a steady rhythm. She never stops looking at him. Or to ask him questions he can't answer.  
  
She just draws.

Her fingers move quickly over the paper, soon dropping a green pencil to grab a blue one instead. Concentrated frown and the tip of her tongue between her teeth. Her eyes focused and serious.

Her mind … it’s like a puzzle, Fitz thinks. More complex and confusing, than any human being could understand. He wonders if she knows, how it feels like, to be missing a piece you desperately want to get back. Or how it feels to want to get rid of something, that’s burned into your mind and will never go away. He shudders involuntarily.

Past, present, future. It’s all inside Robin's head, Fitz knows. She has seen different versions of the person she knows. Of him. For a moment, Fitz wishes he could ask her, if every version of him would end up like the one that died while he himself was sleeping … He hopes that she doesn't only remember versions of him that were mean to her. He really hopes so ...

He startles, when he notices Robin staring right at him. She stopped drawing. Her fingers are still holding a red crayon.

“Are you alright?” Fitz asks her.  

Robin doesn’t answer. She blinks. Suddenly, she gets up from the table and walks over to her bed almost automatically. There’s a bunch of finished pictures laying on it. She searches through them, a concentrated frown on her face. Finally, she seems to find what she’s searching for, pulling out a single paper.

She turns around and hands it to Fitz.

“Thank you,” he murmurs and takes the picture, frowning.

He looks down at it and his eyes widen in surprise. The picture shows three people. Two men and a woman, standing in front of a big house with a steaming chimney, holding hands. He instantly knows who the persons are. Jemma, Deke and him. There’s no doubt. Robin drew him with blue eyes, curls and a scruff. He even sees a wedding ring on one of the drawn fingers. Robin doesn’t do that much detail often. Just for a few pictures. Maybe for the ones, that seem important to her.

Robin watches him, chewing on a finger.

“Do you think that’s going to happen?” Fitz asks her, a small smile spreading on his face.  

Robin doesn’t smile back. She gifts him one of her rare clear moments instead. “Yes,” she says. Just that.

Then, she goes back to work on her current picture.

“Thank you,” Fitz murmurs, although he doesn’t think she even hears him. He looks at the picture again. Everyone on it is smiling. And a bright yellow sun shines on them. It’s a happy picture. A little piece of hope. Exactly what he needs right now.


	4. Stages (Post S5 Finale)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jemma mourns Fitz. (Post Season 5 Finale)

First comes emptiness.

Sheer nothingness.

She sits on her bed, staring into the void and listens to her blank mind.

There’s heavy fog of disbelief, hiding the truth.

But with every moment that passes, with every moment she’s alone, the fog is lifting.  

And when it’s gone, when the raw truth lies in front of her, she isn’t ready.

The pain hits her out of nowhere.

It’s blinding. It’s burning. It comes in waves and forms an endless ocean inside her.

She doubles over and gags.  

 

~

Next comes rage.

It’s white and hot. She throws everything within her reach against the walls.

She screams at the void. She screams from the inside and the outside.  

Give him back.

Give him back.

Give him back!

~

In the end comes never-ending sadness.

It’s the point of almost acceptation.

It’s when she breaks down and cries.

She runs outside because the building is cluttered with memories. They are in every corner, lurking for her. She flees from them. She runs to the shore and sinks on her knees into the sand.

Her gasping wails and sobs drown in the heavy rushing of the indifferent waves.

The ocean in front of her is like a cruel reminder of how far they’ve gone, only to end up like this.

She sits in the sand until it gets dark.

The stars appear above her.

And Daisy finds her.

She wraps her arms around Jemma and rocks her.

There are no words.

Because no words could explain things or lessen her pain.

The time passes around them.

And the world keeps on turning, although a piece is missing.

~

After the end, she goes through Fitz’s things, frantically collecting everything that is a piece of him.

She buries her nose in his jumpers and looks at his sketches and notes, hastily drawn on crumpled papers. She soaks his belongings with new tears.

She eventually finds his postcard from the future.

_Working on it. Fitz._

She stares at the words.  

And that’s when it hits her.  

Paradox. Anomaly.

Her eyes well up again, when she gets it.

Fitz is still sleeping. Frozen in space. On his way to save them.  

She only has to find him.

It’s a bit of hope in her ocean of pain.

But it doesn’t change what she’s feeling.

Because her husband is dead. That happened. He’s gone. And she’s going to mourn him forever.


	5. Maisy The Troublemaker (FitzSimmons AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crazy cat hoarder and allergic-to-cats neighbour AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt found here: [AU Prompts](http://perfectlyrose.tumblr.com/post/113071348748/mickeymllkovich-subbastianstan-okay-but-instead)

Jemma Simmons opens the door, lifting a heavy rubbish bag with an annoyed groan.

She’s just about to leave her flat, when a reddish shadow dashes past her through the door.

“No!” Jemma yells angrily. She knows exactly what happened. One of her cats decided to explore the hallway again. And it’s not a big surprise when she realizes the specific misbehaving cat is Maisy, her little troublemaker.

Jemma has a lot of cats. They’re all from the regional pet shelter. When she has some time, she works there as a volunteer and sometimes it happens, that she just can’t leave a cat there. If she could, she would take them all with her. By now, she has five cats and more don’t fit into her flat. Her mum already calls her a crazy cat lady.

Her cats all have their own character and need special care. Some are disabled, blind or deaf, others are traumatized by past abuse. She loves them all to the moon.

Maisy is a very restless cat. She had to change her home a few times in her short life already. Jemma guesses her previous owners didn’t like her quirks. She scratches at doors and demands attention in a very clear loud way. And she’s quick. Unstoppable, when she wants to explore something. Like the hallway, now. Maisy knows exactly Jemma doesn’t want her to run out of the flat, but well, when did Maisy ever truly listen …

“Maisy!” Jemma calls sternly and the cat looks back at her over the shoulder with wide eyes. “Come back!”

But right in that moment, a door opposite opens, and a man steps out.

Immediately, Maisy runs towards him, tail raised high in the air. She rubs her head against his legs a few times and the man makes a surprised noise, looking down on her. Finally, Maisy runs into his flat with a happy meow.

“Oh no. I’m so sorry!” Jemma calls and walks towards her neighbour.

The man looks at her with a puzzled look and she realizes, he’s about her age.

He holds a rubbish bag in his hand, so obviously he had the same plan as Jemma.

Jemma knows she has seen him briefly from time to time, but now, that she’s standing right in front of him, she sees blue eyes and fluffy curls and a warm smile. He’s attractive.

“It’s al … al …,” he starts, but a sneeze cuts off his words and he mumbles an apology while fumbling around for a tissue. “I’m allergic to cats,” he explains.

“Oh. I’m so sorry,” Jemma says again. She starts to feel guilty when she realizes he will have to get rid of all the cat hairs in his flat later. 

The man shakes his head. “It’s okay,” he sniffles. His eyes are watery now. He sneezes again, holding the tissue in front of his nose.

It looks kind of adorable.

Jemma searches for something to say and decides to introduce herself. Being polite surely is a good idea. After all, her cat is exploring his flat.

“Jemma,” she says, reaching out the hand that’s not holding the rubbish bag.  

He smiles and takes it. “Fitz," he says.

There’s a dull noise coming from inside his flat. It sounds like Maisy found something to throw off a table. She likes that.

Jemma sighs. “I’m really really sorry. She’s just so curious.”

“It’s alright. I love cats. If it wasn’t for that bloody allergy, I would have one too.”

“You still could have a dog,” Jemma says. “Some cats, like Maisy, aren’t that different from them.”

“I don’t know if dogs are allowed here,” Fitz says.

Jemma don’t know what to say to that, so she just shrugs.

There’s a moment of slightly awkward silence between them.

Maisy finally decides that she has seen enough of Fitz’s flat. She comes out of it, looking up at them with wide green eyes, sparkling in innocence.

Jemma shakes her head at her and goes to open the door to her flat for the naughty cat, who disappears inside immediately. Jemma closes the door before another cat can stick a curious nose out and walks back to Fitz.

“Are you about to take the trash out too?”

“Yeah.”

“Then we have the same way.”

He chuckles. “Looks like it. Can I help you with that rubbish bag?”

“Thanks.” She smiles at him and hands it to him. 

They go downstairs together, and she asks him, “Well Fitz, what are you doing here in this city of barely-any-sunshine and lots-of-depressing-rain showers?”

He laughs. “I’m studying engineering. You?”

“Biochemistry.”

“Ah, interesting.”

Just like that, they start talking and can’t stop, even after they got rid of their rubbish bags.


	6. Bonded (FitzSimmons / Guardian Angel AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Jemma jumps out of the plane to protect her team from the effects of the virus, someone catches her. Someone with wings ... (Fitzsimmons / Guardian Angel AU)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit longer but I got carried away :)  
> Partly inspired by Lucifer (tv).  
> If you know and like that show too, you absolutely have to watch this fan vid: ["The Beginning Of The End"](https://youtu.be/Zdw1rSLMvIU)  
> It's sooo beautiful.  
> (I would love to write something longer about this sometime, but I have too many WIPs already and too little time *sigh*, so for now it's just a concept I'm trying out)

It’s inevitable.

She knows it now.

She has to protect everyone else. Has to protect them from _her_. She is dangerous.

The wind is strong. It makes her stumble and she looks down into the clouds floating under her sadly.

“Jemma!” Fitz screams behind the glass that’s separating them.

She turns around to look at him one more time. Tries to memorize his face for eternitie. It's a mask of disbelief and horror. His eyes scream at her to stop.

 _I'm sorry,_ she thinks.

And falls.

She falls endlessly …

 _I_ _wish there would have been another way …_

She closes her eyes, ready for the impact.

But suddenly, hands reach for her. They grab her under her shoulders and lift her up. Solid. Strong. Something touches her face volatilely, soft and tickling. She catches a glimpse of clean blank whiteness. _Feathers …_

She is pulled up and hears a rushing even sound around her, tuning out the wind.

_What’s happening …_

Eventually, she’s dropped and she lands on her knees hard. On solid ground.

Jemma looks around confused.  

She’s back in the bus.

The floor around her is covered with shattered glass.

Fitz is crouching in front of her, breathing heavily.

When she looks at him, her heart seems to miss a beat. Her eyes widen in shock. That … that can’t be. He … he has … _Wings._ He has wings.  

They’re pure white and huge, spread out around his body, barely fitting inside the space.

Jemma stares at them. Her mind is blank.

Fitz notices her gaze and he murmurs a curse. “You weren’t supposed to see this. I ... I lost control for a moment,” he says startled.  

He closes his eyes and furrows his brow. The next moment, the wings disappear, as if they’ve never been there.

Jemma can’t help but pinch herself. Firmly.

It … it can’t be real.

It must be a dream.

But she doesn’t wake up.

Fitz seems to sense her confusion. He smiles weakly. “This is real, Jemma. Trust me.”

Jemma swallows. “You … Why … How ..." She can't find the words for the questions in her mind, that come all at once.

Fitz sighs resignedly. “I’m your Guardian Angel. I was sent to protect you. I’m sorry … But I wasn’t allowed to tell you. You should have never found out ...”  

_Guardian Angel._

Her Guardian Angel.

Jemma blinks. Her best friend. Who was with her all the time, in college, in academy, is an _angel_? Involuntarily, she pinches the back of her hand again. And, of course, doesn’t wake up. Because she’s not dreaming.

“I’m sorry,” Fitz murmurs again, avoiding her eyes.

“So, all this time … you were protecting me from dangers?” Jemma asks puzzled.

She remembers that one time when she almost walked right on a busy street, focused on the textbook in her hands – and suddenly Fitz had been behind her, like out of nowhere, laying a hand on her shoulder to hold her back.

“You have to be more careful, Jemma,” he’d said softly.  

That wasn’t just great timing, she realizes now.

And Fitz nods. “Yes.”

Jemma exhales shakily. “Does everyone have a Guardian Angel?”

“No.”

“Why _me_?” Jemma asks curiously.

“You’re special,” he states. “You’re going to do something very important in the future.”

“Oh.” Jemma swallows. “Um. What exactly am I going to do?”

“You’re going to save the world.”

Jemma’s breath hitches. Her eyes widen. “Are you serious?” She asks stunned.

“Yeah. And by the way, your cure is effective. You can use it now.” He looks at her pleadingly. “And please … don’t do something like _that_ again.”

Something in his voice tells her that he doesn’t say this only because he had to reveal himself to her …

 

*

 

Jemma can’t believe she’s best friends with a Guardian Angel.

And no one beside her _knows_.

Everyone around them treats Fitz completely normal.

 

But when they’re finally alone in the lab, she asks him careful questions.

“How did you become a Guardian Angel?” She asks.

“I died,” Fitz says matter of factly, while handing her a tool.

“Oh.” Jemma’s stomach drops. “I’m sorry.”

“Well. You don’t have to be. At least it wasn't meaningless. In my earlier life I've been a firefighter. I've died while saving someone out of a destroyed building. Got hit and buried by debris,” he says. "My body was completely destroyed. There wasn't anything they could do." He shrugs. But his voice sounds haunted.

“And … you’re automatically a Guardian Angel for someone, after you die?” She asks on.

Fitz shakes his head. “Not everyone gets to be an angel. I guess I became one, because of how I died. And when you're about to be an angel, you actually have a choice. Either you’re a Warrior or a Guardian Angel.” He snorts. “That choice was rather simple for me. I don’t want to fight bloody demons. They're pests. I hope you never have to meet one.”

_Demons … Oh my._

“So … Heaven does really exist, right?” Jemma asks stunned. And God too? This is crazy. She’s a _scientist_. She always wanted to only believe in what she can _see_ with her own eyes. But then, she saw Fitz’s wings. They were real.

Fitz nods. “Yes. Heaven is as real as I am. But most people imagine it wrong. It’s like a city. Everyone has like, uh, their own apartment. Everyone has their own little heaven. I can’t tell you more,” he says, shaking his head. “Already told you way too much.”

“Wow,” Jemma murmurs. “I … this is crazy.”

Fitz smiles at her. “I know. It must be overwhelming for you.” He turns away from her and a bitter expression ghosts over his face.

Suddenly, she realizes he thinks she’s going to treat him differently from now on. She hurries to lay her hand on his arm and he looks down at it with wide eyes.

“This … it changes nothing, Fitz. You’re still my best friend,” she says softly. It's true. He's Fitz, who watches movies with her and eats snacks at midnight. Fitz, who studied with her and fell asleep on her bed, his mouth slightly open and snoring softly, which always made her giggle. He's Fitz.

He looks into her eyes and nods slowly. “Alright. And you … you’re my best friend too …”

“Yes. Always.”

"Always," Fitz echoes, but still, there's a faint shadow in his eyes.

 

*

They’re in a pod on the bottom of the ocean.

 

Fitz did something very human. He blames the great amount of time he has spent back on earth by now. 

He trusted someone and wanted to be their friend.

When the betrayal happened, he was just as hurt as Jemma and now he’s desperate, because they’re in a situation, that he can’t get them out of. Because of various reasons. All of which he's to blame for ...

His arm is broken and it hurts. It is supposed to heal, but nothing happens. He knows what that means. 

He's useless ... 

But he’s going to save Jemma’s life one last time. Because she has to live. Not only because she's going to save the world. Not only because of his mission. No. 

 

“I’m going to give you the oxygen Jemma.”

 

“Why would you do this to me?” She asks, tears filling her eyes. “You’re my best friend in the world!”

Fitz, her _angel_ , looks at her with an adoring expression in his bright blue eyes. “Yeah, but you’re more than that, Jemma,” he says softly, with pain and sadness in his cracking voice.

Her breath hitches.

He smiles sadly. Then he cups her face in his hands. “Guardian Angels aren’t allowed to fall in love with mortals. You didn’t notice it, but I was already being punished for it. I lost a lot of my powers over the last months. My healing abilities and strength. And my wings … they are quite broken. I'm losing my feathers. I’m going to die again and return to heaven, to face the consequences. Guess I'm not getting to be an angel any longer. But it’s alright. It was worth it. I would do it all again. Remember. You’re special. I know now why. Not only because you’re going to save the world one time. But also, because you’re kind and pure. Take care of yourself, Jemma. You mean so much to me …”

“I can’t lose you,” Jemma sobs, pressing her face to his chest, soaking his shirt with her tears. “I can’t … I need you!”

“I will always be _here,_ ” he says, tapping a finger on her chest, where her heart is beating, and wraps his arms around her. “This body is just a shell I’m leaving behind. Maybe I’ll come back. I don’t know."

Her tears soak his shirt and she begs him not to leave.

But it’s inevitable.

He presses the button and her startled desperate scream is interrupted by water, consuming her world and senses.

In the end she takes his body with her.

She can’t leave him behind. She can’t.

 

*

 

Nine days.

This is how long Jemma’s sitting beside Fitz’s bed, staring at his motionless figure.

He’s still _there_. For some reason. At least his human form is. His heart is beating and there's some brain activity. She doesn't know how that is possible. But she doesn't really care. All she wants is to have him back with her.

 _Where is he right now?_ She wonders.

Is his soul in heaven? Is he punished for falling in love with her?

It isn't fair.

She fell in love with him too. Silently, slowly. She knows now. And it's tearing her apart.

  
On the ninth day, when she’s almost about to lose hope, his eyes flutter open.

The familiar blue in them sparkles, when he sees her.

A weak smile spreads on his face. “Hey.”

Jemma smiles back under tears, taking his hand. “Hey,” she breathes.

“I’m back,” he murmurs in wonder. “I got … a second chance. Because of my selfless actions, they said. And because, somehow, we’re bonded now. It’s some kind of old magic you know … Something you can't really reverse."

She laughs. “You know, I've always thought we’re somehow bonded anyway.”

He smiles up at her weakly. "Are you going to take me back? Even if I'm a quite useless Guardian Angel?"

"You're not useless. You mean everything to me," she says quietly and reaches out for him.

They hug and he makes a surprised noise. He's warm around her, as human as one could be.

 

Maybe they were always supposed to save the world together. 


	7. Walls (Season 5 / Rewind)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fitz in a prison cell, trying to find a explanation for the team's disappearance, while he's struggling with the demons in his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of Angst.  
> Tw for self harm.

„You have to sleep.”

Jemma’s voice is soft and urging at the same time.

It rips Fitz out of his jumbled, confusing thoughts about time and dimensions and he sighs annoyed, squeezing his eyes shut tightly.

“You need rest,” Jemma tells him now.

Fitz knows exactly how her face would look while saying those words. He can imagine the combination of affection and mild worry in her eyes just fine. And he knows she would lay a hand on his shoulder. A warm soft hand.

But that’s just wishful thinking. Jemma’s voice is only in his head right now.

Because she’s gone. The whole team is gone.

They disappeared without a trace. Like someone had cut them out of this world. They disappeared and Fitz remained. That he is the only one who was left behind somehow feels like the punishment he thinks he’s deserving after what happened in the Framework.

Now he’s sitting in a prison cell and tries to find out what happened to her, them.

And with every hour that passes, he gets more desperate.

  
“You can continue working tomorrow,” Jemma says.

Fitz opens his eyes again. He stares at the void in front of him and blinks repeatedly. His eyes are teary. They burn. “You’re not here. So quit telling me what to do,” he murmurs.

There’s no answer.

Fitz sighs and looks back down on the book he was reading. The letters blur in front of his eyes. He suppresses a yawn.

He’s tired.

So tired.

Not only physically.

He’s tired of seeing the same four walls every day and of going through the ever-same rhythm the days are following now. He's tired of the voices in his head and the nightmares that are haunting him every time he manages to sleep for a few hours.

He doesn’t even know whether it’s day or night. It’s always cold and always dim in here.

He’s close to beg for some sunlight. Just a few minutes outside.

A wave of sudden dizziness makes everything sway around him and he groans, rubbing his temples. It’s true. He should sleep and continue working later.

But … he can’t. He forces himself to focus back on his task.

A solution.

He has to find a solution for this. Has to answer their questions. Hale’s questions.

Maybe, when he finds the solution, they will bring Jemma back to him. Maybe, they will allow them a moment together. He just needs that. A moment. He needs to see that she’s alright. Unharmed and safe. He just wants that moment. He doesn’t intend to ask for more.

The thoughts are racing in his head and he finally loses battle against sleep. He dozes off, his forehead resting on his unstable heap of books.

  
Time goes on. Weeks become months.

Fitz starts to lose hope.

He isn’t making any progress. The solution is hidden in the dark.

The voices in his head get louder in the meantime.  
Jemma, The Doctor, Ward, sometimes even his father. They’re alternating and it’s getting more and more difficult to ignore them. Fitz tries meditation. May once taught him some. But he can’t shut his mind off. It’s useless. _He_ is useless.

Fitz throws the books against the walls and screams.

Jemma tells him to calm down.

He screams at her too.

 

Hale begins to lose hope too, apparently.

She looks at him with a combination of anger and reluctant pity. Fitz hates that look. It’s only confirming what he already suspects.

He’s losing his mind for good.

He will go mad in this cell.

There’s a crack in his mind and it’s just a matter of time, until it’s going to make his walls crumble down.

 

When The Doctor starts to appear in front of his eyes, now a voice with a body, Fitz starts to think for the first time, that it’s maybe for the better, if Jemma’s far away from him.

The thought hurts. A lot.

This time he doesn’t throw books against the walls. He bangs his head against it and the pain is a sharp white raging wildfire in his head. It makes the Doctor blur and flicker.

Fitz feels grim triumph.

But then Jemma says softly, “Don’t do that, Fitz. Hurting yourself is not a solution.”

And the thought of her face, her pleading eyes, make him feel guilty. He doesn’t hurt his head another time, although sometimes he feels like he should bang it against the wall until everything is quiet.

  
 

When Hunter appears sometime after six months, like out of nowhere, Fitz first thinks he’s a hallucination too.

He doesn’t allow himself to feel relieved or even hopeful. He has learned to be suspicious of everything he sees.

But when they hug and he feels Hunter’s presence  – warm, solid, _real_ – he almost starts to cry.

 

Later, when they’re driving through a lonely countryside, Fitz stares outside and feels overwhelmed by all the bright colours. By the endlessness of the world.

Eventually Hunter asks, “You had a rough time in there, didn’t you, mate?”

Fitz sighs and closes his eyes. “You have no idea.”


	8. Being Left Behind (Fitz & Skye, Season One)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fitz witnesses Skye having a nightmare. He comforts her and they bond over their experience of being left behind (Fitz & Skye, Season One)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm currently rewatching Season One and I have so many Bus Kids Vibes!!! :3  
> They were so tiny, omg.  
> I had the idea for this little ficlet when Quinn talked to Skye about Shield in Episode 3 (The Asset).

It’s almost 4 am.

Fitz is still awake.

He’s sitting on the bed in his small bunk and stares on the screen of his laptop, absently eating Smarties.

He actually likes this. Being awake when no one else around him is.

It’s wonderfully quiet.

There’s barely any noise beside the soft humming of the Bus’ engines, the clattering of the keyboard and his own breath.

In the middle of the night, when the sky outside is the darkest, there’s no stress. There’s no one asking him to solve a problem in under 30 seconds. No one is shouting his name repeatedly or is shouting at each other because they are on the verge of a disaster - Again.

Sometimes Fitz has doubts. Actually he has them all the time now.

He wouldn’t tell Jemma, because he knows she would feel even more guilty then …

After all, it was her idea. Of course he would follow her anywhere, but still … he isn’t entirely sure he is made for _this_.

Only two missions and they have already been in a firefight AND a kidnapping. And they lost their former professor to a way too powerful rare element.

Fitz guesses he’s kind of overwhelmed and he really hopes, no one noticed he has already vomited two times.

He’s interrupted in his quite downing thoughts, when he hears a soft "No" from the other side of the wall.

_Skye._

Fitz frowns and stops eating, listening closely.

“No …” Again.

It sounds distressed.

Next comes a gasp and a moan.

She probably has a nightmare.

Fitz sighs. He’s familiar with night terrors. They aren’t pleasant but well, they are only dreams and are going to stop. At least they can’t hurt you.

After a few seconds, he hears bedsprings creaking.

Maybe she woke up. 

Fitz swallows. He should check if she’s alright, right? But … He doesn’t know her. Not really.

And she doesn’t know him.

Judging by the looks she’s given him and Jemma sometimes, she maybe even thinks they are some weird aloof creatures. It’s nothing new to him. He knows these looks from his school time.

Still.

She’s kind of nice and new here. He should definitely at least ask her, if she’s okay.

Hesitantly, Fitz gets up and leaves his bunk, knocking at Skye’s carefully. “Skye?”

For a moment, nothing happens. But then, the door opens and Skye stands in front of him, her hair a mess and her eyes reddish. “Fitz,” she says surprised.

“Um. Just wanted to ask if you’re alright … I heard you … I mean … You were having a nightmare?” He stammers and calls himself an idiot for not being able to talk coherent with someone new for once.

“Uh. Yes. Nightmare.” Skye chuckles nervously. “Well. It’s over now.”

“And you’re okay?” Fitz asks.

Skye blinks. She opens her mouth and he thinks she’s going to say yes, to make him go away. But instead, her eyes well up and she breathes, “No.”

“Oh.” Fitz scratches the back of his head. “Um. Well. I could …”

“Do you want to come in?" Skye asks and it sounds almost hopeful.

“Of course,” he says surprised and follows her inside her bunk.

She drops on her bed and after some hesitance, he sits beside her, keeping a decent amount of distance.

Skye looks at him attentively. “Why are you still awake?” She asks.

Fitz shrugs. “I’m used to staying up late and sleeping little. Since academy. And I like it. It’s calmer at night.”

Skye nods understandingly. She sighs and fumbles with the buttons on her blue pyjamas restlessly.

Fitz tries to figure out his next words, but then he has an idea. “Here.” He hands Skye his half empty pack of Smarties, which he had put into the pocket of his cardigan when left his bunk. “You want some?”

“Oh my gosh, chocolate!” Skye laughs and grabs a handful, throwing it in her mouth. “Thanks. Chocolate is like always-helping medicine … Even for such stupid nightmares,” she says, sighing.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Fitz asks.

Skye hesitates. Finally, she nods and draws in a deep breath. “It’s just … What Quinn said to me, stirred up a few, uh, unwelcome memories.” Her eyes narrow and she shifts on the bed nervously. “You know … I’m an orphan. I had some foster families. When I met them, I always tried my best. I always wanted to please them, so I could stay. But they still sent me back. I’m dreaming about the moment I’m standing in front of the orphanage, holding the hand of a nun, while the foster parents drive away again. In those dreams I relive the feeling of being left behind. And it hurts. It hurts damn much.”

Skye stops talking. There’s a distant expression in her eyes.

Fitz swallows. _The feeling of being left behind._

A memory stirs in the corner of his mind. _His mother, sitting at the table, her head in her hands._ _When Fitz_ – but he was Leo back then. He was Leo and he was only ten years old … - _asks her what’s wrong, she tells him his father has left. But, she says, we’re going to be fine, darling. We’re a team and we’re going to be fine …_ _And she was right. But still, the certain kind of pain in his heart has never really faded, no matter how hard he wanted the feeling to go away …_

“My father left,” Fitz blurts out. “When I was ten.”

“Oh.” Skye throws him a shocked glance. “I’m sorry.”

Fitz shakes his head and sighs. “No. Don’t be. It probably was for the best …” He doesn’t say more about this, but Skye looks at him, as if she senses what he means.

They sit there in silence for a moment, now knowing, that they share some certain kind of feeling. The feeling of being not good enough for someone.

Eventually, Skye yawns and stretches, groaning.

“Do you want to sleep?” Fitz asks.

“No. I don’t think so.” She sighs. “I don’t feel like I would be able to fall back asleep now …”

“We could play some computer game. Like an Ego Shooter. It sometimes helps to get rid of the pent up anger,“ Fitz suggests. Playing Computer Games has helped him a lot in the past. It’s a good distraction.

Skye’s eyes lit up. “That would be awesome! Didn’t think you would play Computer games.”

Fitz raises an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Well … You’re a genius. And Simmons is too. I’ve never known a genius before,” Skye says, blushing a bit.

Fitz laughs. “Trust me. We’re not that, uh, different. Besides, you’re kind of a genius too.”

Skye looks at him surprised. “I am?”

“Yeah. What're able to do with a computer … it’s marvellous!”

Skye’s mouth drops open. She looks stunned.

Maybe, Fitz thinks, maybe she barely gets any compliments.

“Thanks,” Skye finally breathes and smiles timidly.  

 

They play games the rest of the night.

 

“You know,” Fitz eventually says, “These foster parents. They were stupid for not seeing your value. But see, the life you were living led you here, and maybe this is your family now. Shield. We.”

“Maybe,” Skye says, and she doesn’t unfix her gaze from the screen, but there’s a smile lingering on her face.

 

Maybe some of these stressful situations he didn't think he would experience, are worth such moments that feel like making a friend, Fitz muses.


	9. Surprise, Surprise (FS Academy Era, Pre-Relationship)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jemma saves Fitz from a surprise party.
> 
> Written for FitzSimmons Appreciation Week. Day 4 Prompt: Surprise.

„A surprise party? Really?“ Jemma wrinkles her nose.

„Everyone loves surprise parties,” Susan says cheerfully, throwing another balloon on the floor of the Boiler Room. She has already blown up two dozen of them. Her face is a bright strawberry-red.

Jemma looks up at the banner, that screams “Happy Birthday Fitz” in big colorful letters and frowns.

She has known Fitz for almost two years now. And she is pretty sure that he isn’t into this kind of social event, where he stumbles into a room full of people unprepared and everyone yells and laughs and throws confetti at him. In fact, she can only imagine him turning on the spot and fleeing.

But Susan is so determined. And Jemma thinks she knows why. Susan has a crush on Fitz. She is not really subtle about it. She leans into his personal space whenever she can, giggling and giving him heart eyes.

For some reason she can't quite define right now, Jemma doesn’t like her advances.

And she’s pretty sure, Fitz doesn’t enjoy them either. The smiles he gives Susan in return always look so mask-like.

Jemma bets Susan hopes she can get closer to Fitz this way. After two or three shared beers, slow music playing in the background … Jemma imagines Susan asking Fitz for a dance with one of her high-pitched giggles and startles when she feels a sudden but violent rush of revulsion.

“You’re going to help me, right?” Susan asks when she’s done blowing up another big pink balloon, breathing heavily. She rips Jemma out of her thoughts, and she feels a bit guilty. “Uh, how?”

“You’re going to get Fitz to come here, after he finished his work at the lab.”

“Oh. Right. I can try,” Jemma says evasively.

Susan beams at her and turns on her heels to go to yell at Tom because he picked the wrong beer.

Jemma is glad for the opportunity to leave. Susan can be an exhausting person. When she imagines something, she keeps on and on, until everything is to her satisfaction. And it really doesn’t matter to Susan, if she scares some people off with her doggedness.

Jemma heads for Fitz’s room. She arrives right when he is about to open the door, carrying a heap of books under his arm. “Hey Jemma,” he murmurs when he notices her. He looks worn out and annoyed.  
Jemma guesses the lab project isn’t working out like he expected. She feels sympathy. Group projects can be hell. “Hey. Can I come in?” She asks.

“Course.”

When they enter, Fitz drops his books on the little table in the middle of the room and hurries to pick up a crumpled shirt on the floor, throwing it into the laundry basket.  “This was tedious,” he sighs and drops on his bed. “ _Why_ do we have to do group projects? I would be so much faster if I could work on this alone and didn’t have to discuss everything. I’m glad it’s over now. I really can’t handle more stress today.”

Jemma bites her lip as she remembers Susan’s surprise party. “So … how do you want to spend the evening? It’s your birthday after all,” she asks carefully.

Fitz shrugs and yawns. “I’m so tired … don't know if I can do much more than falling asleep after this day."

That’s when Jemma knows she can’t do it. She can’t drag him to the Boiler Room. The party would only cause him more stress, annoyance and maybe even an aching headache. Of course, Fitz would act like he was happy for the sake of Susan’s feelings, but inside he would be desperate to escape into his bed. She can’t do this to Fitz. His wellbeing is important to her. They’re best friends after all.

Jemma suspects Susan is going to kill her for this betrayal, but she sits beside Fitz and says, “You know … I have a surprise for you.”

“Yeah?” Fitz smiles but he also looks a bit alarmed. “You didn’t prepare a, uh, surprise party, did you?”

Jemma almost starts laughing at how worried he sounds, but she bites her lip and shakes her head. It's time for her birthday presents. She thinks - or hopes - they are more Fitz-friendly than a surprise party with Susan and a dozen of her friends. “No … Buuut,” she reaches inside her bag and pulls out some boxes. “I made the sandwich. And chocolate cake.”

Fitz’s eyes lit up. “Wow. Thanks Jemma, that’s exactly what I need right now.”

Jemma smiles and starts to feel warm inside. But she isn’t done yet. “Also, I borrowed the movies I was talking about the other day. The ones you said you haven’t seen yet and I told you it’s a sacrilege to not know them.”

“The Lord Of The Rings, yeah. I remember.” Fitz eagerly opens the box with the sandwich and glances at it, beaming. “Jems, you are the best.”

The warmth spreads and her toes start to tingle. But she still says, “I mean … if you are too tired, we can watch the movies another time. We don’t have to do it today.”

“No. No, it’s alright. I would never be too tired for a movie evening with you. Also, I can’t eat the whole cake alone!” Fitz hurries to say, and Jemma’s heart seems to jump a little loop inside her chest. He wants her to stay. He wants to spend the evening with her even if he’s exhausted.

She completely forgets about Susan and the surprise party and focuses on Fitz, who devours the sandwich, making little happy noise in the back of his throat. His blue eyes are sparkling and her gaze lingers on them for a while.

They start the movie and share the cake in comfortable silence. It's delicious.

“This is perfect,” Fitz sighs eventually. “Just a calm, peaceful evening.” He looks at her and adds a quiet, “With you.”

A little shiver runs over Jemma’s spine. She smiles at him and takes a bite of her cake. The sweet chocolate flavour explodes on her tongue and adds to the mix of pleasurable things she’s already feeling. This is perfect indeed.

 

***

The next day, when Jemma and Fitz walk into the lecture hall, they discover Susan, who is shooting daggers at them as soon as she sees them. Her mouth is a thin grim line and her brows are furrowed.

Jemma swallows. If looks could kill …

“Why is she staring at us like this?” Fitz asks perplexed.  

Jemma doesn’t answer. She feels a strange combination of guilt and satisfaction.

She’s going to have to do some explaining later.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not a native speaker and always grateful for being corrected! I'm constantly trying to improve my English, so please don't hesitate to tell me about mistakes. <3
> 
> Visit me on tumblr: [ready-to-kick-some-ass](https://ready-to-kick-some-ass.tumblr.com/) :)


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